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by fluffulsun



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, M/M, World War II, inspired by all the light we cannot see, it's liu yangyang with whoever comes to your mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29000463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffulsun/pseuds/fluffulsun
Summary: Liu Yangyang was among them, but he did not scan the coast or aim straight at the high seas with his rifle. He sat on a wooden stool that was worn with age, which often creaked when he moved accidentally, screeching high-pitched sound, very disturbing.
Relationships: Liu Yang Yang/Everyone
Kudos: 6





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**Author's Note:**

> hahaha idk this is definitely a ramble but enjoyyy!

At one o'clock in the morning, at a hotel on the outskirts of St. Malo, a crowd of humans forced their eyes to stay lit in the dark. Some stood guard along the coast, covered in almost the same form as bush or left dashing in army uniforms. Those people, whom they thought were the best, able to dispel the enemy's ruthless bullets, would be the first to die when the foe came and went crazy. A few more people hid behind the cannon, The Queen. the Germans had nicknamed it, an object that was four times larger than their body. not without reason, see, like the queen pieces on chess, they were almost the same. one move, the enemy was alarmed, one step straight, the enemy was destroyed.

Liu Yangyang was among them, but he did not scan the coast or aim straight at the high seas with his rifle. He sat on a wooden stool that was worn with age, which often creaked when he moved accidentally, screeching high-pitched sound, very disturbing.

but, no matter how much he hated that screeching sound, he knew that hearing it every day would be better than hearing the sound of the 88 artillery that once fired into the air, it almost could split the sky in two. Liu Yangyang and the rest of the coast seemed to be able to feel its vibrations all the way through their bones.

“This chair is almost as damaged as my ears”

he said, laughing at himself in silence. Meanwhile a pitchless voice fought boisterously in Liu Yangyang's two ears. noisy and deafening.

“Two hundred kilometers, the Queen is ready, countdown. ten, nine .. ” one of the soldiers gave the command, followed by a loud thud as the background music.

From the background sound, Yangyang could imagine various scenes: bullets hitting someone's chest, missiles hitting the roof, children screaming in pain while mothers cry silently. _Oh, oh, please_. Yangyang prayed. To who? of course not God, because really, he still had shame. How could he pray for fear of death before killing dozens of people across the ocean? How could he ask for protection when he was a part of the committee that took away the happiness of another human?

Yangyang grimaced, as if trying to feel a small part of his victim's pain.

'One' then the missile was fired, it sped off into a parabolic trajectory before taking a sharp dive, smashing, exploding, turning the steel tanks into pieces.

Yangyang could hear the joyful cheers of his peers, some people had even planned to celebrate their victory over the lives of others.

But it didn’t last long. Karma was a bitch. Yangyang had heard. So it did, karma came in a form of bombs, hitting their fortress, one, two, three and some. Yangyang lost count. All he knew was one of it smashed behind him. The momentum was enough to crook his creaky chair, throw himself like a piece of paper.

When he was young, he thought about flying. He imagined it like this: wings spread in the middle of the sky, the wind slipped through his finger, his body floated freely. He imagined how it felt to be like icarus.

Now he knew how it felt. It was not the same. His body was thrown to air. suddenly life had speeded up in front of his eyes, it was endless. He flew at full speed. it was not great, He didn’t fly like icarus chasing the sun, in fact, It’s aching. He wondered where he would land and the answer was a concrete floor.

His body hit the floor hard. blood started to stream from his nose, his forehead, his legs. A piece of familiar wood pierced his back, it was from the creaky annoying stool that had been his throne for the past few months. funny how he attached to it even until his death. He thought it would hurt. But no, he felt a little dizzy and the seconds later, he felt nothing.

in blurry sight, he recalled anything he saw in the last seconds: his friends scattered unidirectionally, small and helpless like ants avoiding insecticide, 88 artilleries are no longer versatile, it’s wrecked, looking useless against the bomb. The Queen was the only thing standing stout in the middle of fire.

as for him, at times like this, he missed home: the clink of clocks and canaries and the dripping of water from a leaky pipe that he had never had time to fix, sounds that were at least the most normal in his life. a scenery that contrasted his sight at time.

Liu Yangyang closed his eyes again, carrying his memory flying to a small cottage with a flower garden. A man was in the middle of it, with a can of dog food in his right hand and his left stroking a puppy’s mane gently. In Yangyang's memory, That man was the most perfect among the flowers. even the sunflowers that had burst into bloom alongside the yard became worthless against him. That man was beautiful, soothing, reconciling.

under the blue sky and hanging clouds, the man with honey-brown skin smiled at him. oh, How yangyang missed that smile. the smile that seemed to make helios worked harder to brighten the sun. his head tilted slightly while calling Yangyang with his beloved nickname “jjagiya ...”

In his shadow, he trotted towards the boy, manifested his longing in a hug on that thin waist, it was tight, but still gave him a space to breathe. He liked this. being in his favorite man's arms: felt weak but safe at the same time. He loved this. He didn’t want to let go.

He conveyed his affection through a gentle kiss on the man’s plump lips which he later figured out tasted like strawberry, sweet and addictive. He wanted this forever.

Yangyang had thought about death, they said it was pitch black, silent, and frightening. but for him, death was something magical, something warm, like a blanket wrapped around his cold, shaking body. It felt like home.

“I'm home.”


End file.
